


A Midsummer Night's Dream

by Rycolfan (Snarryeyes)



Category: Whose Line Is It Anyway? RPF
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Pre-Whose Line
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-23
Updated: 2012-07-23
Packaged: 2017-11-10 14:08:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/467162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snarryeyes/pseuds/Rycolfan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's the last night of Ryan and Colin's summer vacation with their Vancouver improv buddies, and the booze is flowing freely...</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Midsummer Night's Dream

**Author's Note:**

> This story is set in the mid-eighties, just before Ryan goes off to join Second City. 
> 
> As always, it's a work of fiction. No offense is intended to those portrayed herein.

The music was loud. Too loud in Colin’s opinion, although he appeared to be in the minority. The heavy beat was rattling the windows in their frames and boring through his skull to vibrate his already foggy senses. He finished the last of his drink and set the empty bottle down, reaching up to rub some clarity back into his decreasingly cooperative eyes.

They’d arrived five days ago, a whole bunch of them, ready to make the most of being away from work and responsibilities. It was a mixed group; eight men and two women, various ages, all with differing jobs to pay the bills, but with one thing tying them together against adversity. They were all part of the Vancouver improv scene. It was hard work for little pay, fighting to get recognized, to have a chance of making it big, so, when one of the younger members had mentioned that their parents had a place in Long Beach, it had seemed like the perfect excuse for a summer vacation.

Tonight was their last night, so the alcohol was flowing in abundance and the music was no doubt scattering wildlife for miles around. Colin had managed to grab one of the few comfortable chairs by the window, his long jean-clad legs propped up on a nearby wooden table as everyone else continued to party hard.

A fresh beer was plopped down in front of him, and he didn’t need to look up to know who’d placed it there. He dropped his hand, hiding a smile.

“Can’t keep up with the youngsters?” Ryan teased, depositing his unsteady, lanky, frame in the wicker chair opposite. It creaked in protest.

Colin quirked an eyebrow at the challenge, then leant forward to flip the lid off the cool bottle and down half of it in one go. Ryan’s grin widened approvingly, quickly hidden by his own bottle as he took another swig.

“I’m just recovering from your surfing lesson,” Colin retorted, his tongue stumbling a little sluggishly over the words. He wasn’t too far gone to feel the lump on the back of his head, courtesy of his wayward surfboard, although, despite that, it had still been one of the best days he could remember.

A rumble of laughter shook Ryan’s chest. “I’ll get you surfing yet. Just give me twenty or thirty… years.” He got a swift punch to the leg in response, and laughed harder.

The music abruptly changed to something which was all beat and no tune and someone wacked the volume up further, making Colin groan. “I need some fresh air,” he shouted, getting to his feet, “and the ability to hear for the foreseeable future.”

Ryan snorted, then struggled out of his chair. “I’ll come with you, gramps. We don’t want you falling down the steps.”

Colin shoved him back into his chair, bursting into laughter when Ryan flailed wildly and promptly fell out of it again. “Who’s the gramps now, Ry?”

He managed to get outside before Ryan could untangle his limbs to launch a counter-attack and, kicking off his shoes, wandered down towards the breaking waves, relishing the stinging sea breeze which whipped around him and the soft but cold sand beneath his feet. Hearing a burst of music behind him, signalling Ryan’s exit from the house, Colin grinned in anticipation as soft footfalls approached his position. This is what he loved above all else.

Listening intently, he was able to side-step an attempted tackle. Grinning, he turned to face Ryan, who had almost lost his balance with the move and only managed to save himself at the last moment. The taller man was noticeably swaying, almost in time with the tide, bottle still firmly in hand. Despite Ryan’s jokes, Colin knew from experience that he was able to handle alcohol a lot better than his friend; they’d had countless drinking sessions, before and after gigs... much to the disapproval of their employers. Colin knew that he himself was far from sober and cognisant right now, but he still registered the devious glint in Ryan’s eyes which promised retribution sooner or later. 

He only managed to take a few steps backwards before Ryan tossed his bottle aside and launched a full assault. Shrieking with surprised laughter, Colin took refuge in the waves. He ran in laboured slow motion, fighting the drag of the ocean as it tried to push him back towards the shore. The water soaked through and weighed down his jeans, and his laughter was broken by gasps for breath. He felt splashes against his back as Ryan followed him in, his long legs gaining an advantage, and Colin was no more than a few meters out when a warm body collided with his. He ended up with a mouthful of salty water as they both went under the rolling waves.

They resurfaced together, spluttering and laughing, their hair plastered untidily to their heads. Colin belatedly realized that he hadn’t taken his wallet out of his jeans pocket, but at that moment he found it difficult to care. Not when Ryan’s green eyes were sparkling with gleeful victory and his arm was still fastened firmly around Colin’s waist. Now they were past the breaking surf, the water was calmer, gently buffeting them, but it was very cold, and the heat of their exertion was quickly being leached from their bodies.

They waded towards the beach, intermittently splashing water at each other, and stumbled out onto the sand, the weight of their sodden clothes slowing their steps. Colin promptly collapsed onto his back, exhausted, both his head and heart pounding. Ryan stopped next to him, breathing heavily, his sway back again, and looked up towards the many twinkling lights of the beach-front houses. It was almost impossible to tell them apart in the dark.

“Any idea which of those houses is ours?”

Colin didn’t bother to look; he didn’t have the energy. “Nope.”

Ryan screwed up his eyes and pointed a finger at them. “Eeeny, meeny, miiiny, m-ooomph.”

Colin snickered as Ryan landed in a heap beside him, and released his grip on Ryan’s arm. “It’s better out here anyway. Peaceful.”

“Oh, fuck it,” Ryan cursed, not listening. He pulled a sodden pack of cigarettes out of his pocket and tossed them onto the sand.

“That’s okay; I’ve got some,” Colin replied, producing an equally sopping pack. 

Ryan’s mouth twitched, and there was a brief pause before they both burst into laughter. It was the best kind of laughter, the kind that’s hard to contain and almost impossible to stop. When they finally succeeded, they were both more out of breath than ever. Ryan flopped down to lie beside Colin, uncaring of the sand which immediately clung onto his wet clothes and hair, and they lay in comfortable silence for a few minutes. 

Colin tried to focus on the stars above, half hidden by drifting clouds… the same stars and constellations he’d gazed up at since he was a small boy. They never changed. Ryan seemed to read his thoughts, his slurred words breaking into the night’s tranquillity.

“Stars are bright.” When Colin made a vague noise of assent, Ryan continued, “See that line of stars over there?”

Colin looked towards where he was gesturing in an exaggerated manner. “Uh-huh.”

“That’s Orion’s Belt.”

“Really?” Colin’s voice sounded mildly impressed as he squinted at them.

“Not a fucking clue. Could be.” 

Ryan dissolved into laughter as he was elbowed hard in the ribs, and Colin couldn’t stop a grin from breaking through his expression of righteous indignation.

“You’re such an idiot; you know that?”

“It’s my gift.”

A strong gust of wind tore the reply from Colin’s mouth and he shivered violently, his wet clothes feeling suddenly icy against his skin. He instinctively hugged his arms to his chest and turned towards Ryan to protect himself, unsurprised to see that Ryan seemed completely unaffected. He was too drunk to notice a minor thing like the onset of hypothermia, still staring up at the sky.

Colin closed his eyes and was trying to stop his teeth chattering, wondering when he’d lost all feeling in his feet, when something heavy pushed him onto his back again, covering his body. Eyes flying open, surprised hazel met glazed green.

“Wha? … What are you doing, Ry?”

“I’m warming you up,” Ryan said simply, grinning. 

“No; you’re crushing me.”

“Hey, trust me; I’ve watched survival shows.”

“That fills me with confiden-mmph.”

Colin was cut off by Ryan’s mouth abruptly descending on his and he froze, shock warring with something unexpected, something which crept out of the dark recesses of his mind and gained in strength as the seconds ticked by; a heady desire. 

Ryan’s lips felt rough and cold, yet left an intrinsic warmth within him. Plucking up the courage, he experimentally poked his tongue out to lightly swipe across them, briefly tasting the salt from their impromptu swim before Ryan opened his mouth and drew him inside. Now Colin could barely think at all, only dimly aware of the crashing waves and stinging wind as his numb fingers gripped Ryan’s damp shirt and held him in place. A vague feeling of unease, insistently prodding the back of his mind, was effectively shut down as Ryan’s rubbed their groins together through the denim between them and his heart rate doubled.

Colin found himself wondering, with a degree of amusement, exactly what sort of survival shows Ryan had watched, but then a harder, more desperate, thrust of Ryan’s hips stole his breath. Now attacking Ryan’s mouth in earnest, he thrust back against the lean body over his in response, needing to feel that electric sensation again, and quietly groaned when he succeeded.

Ryan was pressing him harder into the sand now, and grains were rubbing uncomfortably against the small band of exposed wet skin at his waist, but Colin didn’t try to remedy it. The dull pain gave his mind focus, anchoring him to the reality of the moment. He could feel the jutting hardness of Ryan’s erection meeting his own through their cold, soaked, jeans and it made him feel recklessly confident. He moved his hands down to grip Ryan’s hips encouragingly, increasing the speed of their movements until they were thrusting with wild abandon.

After only a minute or so Colin could feel the coil tightening inside his groin, while the tide advanced and began lapping at his sandy toes. He paid the ocean no heed, his fingers digging into Ryan’s hips in glorious anticipation. Then his movements stilled and, eyes tightly shut, he felt a sudden warmth flare in his jeans. He expelled a ragged breath as the fire in his groin spread outwards, running along every nerve in his body, right to the tips of his fingers and toes.

Opening his eyes a fraction, Colin glimpsed the same rapturous expression upon Ryan’s face as his body trembled through the remnants of its release. They were still clinging tightly to each other and, although the water was creeping up to his ankles and the wind was biting, the warmth in Colin remained, now joined by an almost overwhelming drowsiness. Maybe he shouldn’t have drunk so much.

 

Colin woke the next morning to find himself alone in his bed at the beach-house. Scrubbing his face with one hand, he frowned and sat up, trying to separate dream from reality. He threw back the covers and looked down at the very real red marks on his bare legs, sand still clinging persistently in places, then across at his ruined clothes draped over a nearby chair. Very clearly not a dream, then. Before he could ponder events further, however, there was a knock at the door. 

Ryan entered without waiting for an answer, looking pale and haggard. “Whose fucking idea was it to buy that much alcohol?” he whimpered, collapsing onto the bed and cradling his head in one hand. “Everyone’s packing far too loudly.”

Eternally grateful for never having had to suffer through hangovers, Colin looked sympathetic and, rummaging in his bag for a moment, produced a bottle of painkillers which he handed to Ryan. “Here.”

Ryan smiled gratefully and immediately downed a couple dry. A thoughtful expression crossing his face, he opened his mouth to say something, and Colin stiffened in dread. Was this the point of no return? Was their friendship going to be irrevocably changed?

“What the hell did we do last night, anyway? My clothes are ruined.”

Relief and disappointment flowed through Colin in equal measure. He flashed a smile at Ryan, who was looking thoroughly confused. “We just went for a swim.”

“Oh… right.” Ryan shook his head, then winced at the movement. “Man, I need to cut down on the beer. I wasn’t too much of an asshole, was I?”

“No more than usual.” Colin couldn’t help snorting as Ryan narrowed his eyes. “No, you weren’t, Ry,” he said reassuringly. “The complete opposite, in fact.” 

When Ryan pinned him with a suspicious, questioning, look, Colin smiled softly. 

“I was cold, so you kept me warm.”


End file.
